


Don't Look at Me!

by katambrosius



Series: Taking Control [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Desperation, Dramatic Victor Nikiforov, Gen, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Omorashi, Pee, Public Humiliation, Teen Victor Nikiforov, Teenage Drama, Wetting, Young Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 23:56:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10424700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katambrosius/pseuds/katambrosius
Summary: 16 year old Victor is desperate to pee, but Yakov won't let him take a break until he lands a quad flip.  He doesn't know how much more his bladder can take.(This can be read as a prequel or a one shot)





	

If there was one thing Victor Nikiforov would change about himself, he decided as he once again fell attempting to land a quad flip, it would be his teeny tiny bladder. He cursed under his breath as he stood up, pressing his thighs together tightly for a moment before making his way to the edge of the ice.

“Can I take a break for a moment, Coach?” he asked as nonchalantly as possible, trying to keep his frustration out of his tone. He’d been fine not too long ago, but his bladder had always been able to go from fine to bursting seemingly instantly, and it was _embarrassing_. He’d noticed it roughly ten minutes after getting on the ice, but he’d just finished his warmups, and there was no way he could just leave. He’d resigned himself to practising his routine once or twice, but Coach Yakov had had other ideas. 

After attempting a quad flip five times, each attempt worse than the last as the pressure grew, Victor couldn’t take it anymore. The cold, the spinning, the _jumping_ \- everything was making his need worse, and he just needed to _pee_. He resisted the urge to cross his legs as Yakov glared at him, and willed his hips to stay still. 

“You only just started. You can have a break when you actually land a flip. Not a second before.”

“But Coach-” 

“Not a second before.”

Victor felt his heart plummet to his stomach, where it pressed against his bladder cruelly. He bit back a groan as he bowed his head. “Yes Coach.” Returning to the ice, he found himself so much more aware of the other skaters around him. He was so used to people staring at him that he’d learned to block it out, but now he couldn’t help but wonder if everyone knew. 

It was a Saturday, and the rink was open to families. There were people of all ages roaming around, toddlers, children, preteens, teens, and adults. Victor gulped, his heart racing. What if he couldn’t land the flip? He’d only landed it twice before, and he’d been in top form. He certainly wasn’t in top form now, as his bladder was urgently reminding him. He gulped again, and started to move in slow figure eights, building up to the necessary speed, and-

His feet left the ice, and he spun. Once. Twice. Three Times. He lost concentration just as he neared the fourth rotation, his bladder pounding, his legs turning to jelly. He fell. Again. Victor got up, ignored Yakov’s shouts, and tried again. And again. After three more tries, he was left kneeling on the ice, his legs pressed together as if his life depended on it, and in some ways it did. Victor didn’t think he’d ever recover if he wet himself in front of this many people. He panted as he tried to get his body back under control.

He was sixteen. He was nearly an adult. Adults didn’t wet themselves like children. Victor felt the flush rising to his cheeks and hoped people would think he was just overworked. He’d wet himself before, and rather recently too, but it was usually in the bathroom because he hadn’t been able to get his clothes or costume off in time. He bit his lip as wave after wave of need washed over him, and waited them out. 

He was drawing attention. Someone asked if he was alright. Victor felt himself nod as he slowly got to his feel and skated carefully to the exit of the rink. He would not wet himself here. Not with all these people. He gripped the edge of the rink tightly, his knuckles turning white as he fought to stand tall. He caught Yakov’s eye, silently begging the man to bring his skate guards over so he could leave the ice, but his coach stalked over, leaving the precious guards on the bench as Victor stared at them longingly. 

“What are you doing, get back out there! You can land this flip, I’ve seen you do it.” Victor cringed at his coach’s yelling, he was drawing the attention of the entire rink. Attention that Victor desperately wanted to avoid.

“Coach, please-” he started, but was cut off again.

“What is wrong with you today, Victor? Yesterday you were excited to be trying this, but today you seem more than reluctant. I won’t tolerate you slacking off, just because everyone knows who you are now is no excuse to be so sloppy.”

Sloppy? Of course he was sloppy! He was _desperate_ to _pee_!

“Coach, please, I just need a break. I’ll come straight back, I’ll land the flip today, I swear!” 

Victor gasped as his bladder spasmed, and he gave in to the urge to cross his legs, bending at the waist slightly. “Please?” He hated how broken he sounded as he fought back tears. Yakov’s eyes were wide, and he blinked in Victor’s state with surprising efficiency, storming over to the bench to collect the guards. Unfortunately, it was too late. 

Bending to put on the guards was Victor’s undoing, and he let out a startled cry as hot piss spilled down his legs, a sharp contrast the the bitter cold of the rink air. He was frozen in place; balancing on one leg, one hand on the edge of the rink, and the other trying to attach his skate guard. He stayed still as a statue as his bladder emptied its contents onto the ice, forming a pool of yellow that slowly started to freeze. The rink had gone silent, anyone who hadn’t immediately noticed had quickly had it pointed out to them.

The great Victor Nikiforov had just pissed himself on the ice. 

It took a few moments for the shock to wear off, but it did. Whispers and sniggers filled the rink. Victor flushed darkly and bowed his head to hide his tears as he rushed from the room, ignoring the jeers and catcalls of his fellow skaters and members of the public. For once Yakov was silent, and Victor couldn’t help but feel grateful that his coach didn’t follow him. He just needed to be alone. 

If he was being honest with himself, Victor thought as he peeled his sopping clothes from his body, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to face his coach again, let alone anyone else. His body shook as humiliation coursed through him, and as he stepped under the hot water, Victor let the sobs come freely. 

Would the reporters find out? Was anyone filming? It was entirely possible. Many of the other professional skaters had their practises filmed so that they could look back on them later, and the parents of enthusiastic children could also quite often be found with a phone in hand. Victor thought he just might die if anyone released footage of him pissing himself. He felt pretty close to dying of embarrassment as it was. 

He’d finished his shower and gotten dressed, and was sitting on the bench in the locker room, his arms around his knees, when the door opened. It was Yakov. Victor lowered his gaze immediately, he didn’t want to look at anyone. He didn’t want anyone looking at him, not now, probably not ever again.

“Vitya?”

Victor didn’t answer. Yakov moved slowly, like he was approaching a wounded animal, and sat next to him. Close, but not close enough to touch. 

“Vitya, are you alright?”

“Do I look alright?” Victor demanded, his eyes puffy and red, his nose running. He sniffed, and turned his head away. Yakov ignored the question.

“No one will speak a word. I have ensured it. You need not worry, Vitya. I told you I will always protect your reputation, I will not back out on my word now.”

“My reputation.” Victor snorted. “A lot of good that does me when you won’t listen when I need a break. It’s a bit late for my reputation now, don’t you think.”

“I think you’re being dramatic, Victor. No one thinks badly of you. Your fellow skaters have been in similar situations, and the families think you are precious. I think nearly every mother out there is ready to adopt you. They all blame me.”

“They should blame you.”

“I know. I blame myself too.”

They sat in silence. There was a brief moment where it looked as though people were about to enter, but they noticed the Victor and Yakov, and left quickly, Victor’s face burning with shame.

“Blame does us no good now, Vitya, but I will make you a promise. Will you look at me?”

Victor took his time, but he looked up eventually, and was slightly startled by the sincerity in Yakov’s expression. 

“If you promise to take your practise more seriously, I promise to listen to you when you’ve really had enough, and if you need to leave the ice for any reason. Let’s not make this into a retelling of the boy who cried wolf, okay?”

“Okay,” Victor nodded, a small smile touching his face, “I promise.”

Neither seemed to want to be the first to move, but after a few minutes, Victor stood up, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, and fetching some tissues to wipe his nose. “You won’t let them say anything?”

“Never.”

“They won’t all look at me differently?”

“I really doubt it.”

“I’m sorry, Coach.”

“I’m sorry too, Vitya. Let’s not make a habit of this.”

They walked out in silence, and Victor packed up his things, leaving practise early. _Don’t look at me, don’t look at me_ repeated like a mantra in his head, but true to Yakov’s word, no one did. Victor sighed in relief as the cool outside air hit his face, instantly refreshing him and making him feel better inside and out. 

By the time he got home, he was feeling almost optimistic. Sure, no one would ever forget seeing him wet himself like a child, but he was Victor Nikiforov. No one would dare say a thing about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a headcanon I came up with that wouldn't get out of my head until I wrote it down. I've never written fanfic for anime before, so please let me know what you think. I hope I didn't mess up too badly. 
> 
> Just to make it clear, it never did get out, and most people did forget about it. Victor is just being dramatic as usual. Let me know if you want a sequel (or more) about Victor telling Yuuri (and what happens after). Another headcanon I have is that Yuuri is into omo, so...
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> [EDIT] I am making this into a series, and this will function as the prologue. I still have no idea how many fics there will be, but please leave suggestions if you have any :)


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